Naked, Jiggly, and Joyous AF

This is a reminder to myself that the voice in my head, telling me that i’m looking a little “big,” or that my clothes don’t look right on my body, or that I need to “fix” any part of my body, is not me, but actually an imaginary, total bitch that I need to name and claim as such. Let’s call her Cruella McBwordAwordStupidDooDooFaceMagee. Excuse my French. CMA for short.

Sometimes (okay pretty much everyday) I wake up and the first thing I do, even before opening my eyes, is put my hands on my stomach to see if, overnight, it has gotten bigger or (fingers crossed) smaller! My day begins with the presumption that I have somehow gained weight overnight from eating too much or from, well, just being alive and if I have in fact, become larger during the past 8 hours, it will impact the rest of my life for-ever, I will die alone, unsuccessful, and everyone will judge me. Here are the following steps to unravel this not so loving mental conditioning I created as a 10 year old girl that I have compassionately cultivated and revised as a 31 year old WOMAN. Yes, I am a woman now. Hear me roar.

I get out of bed, take my clothes off, and inspect my body in the mirror from Every. Single. Angle. Upon inspection, I look myself right in the eyes and say with confidence and vigor, “You are a fucking brilliant force of love and a hot piece of ass! Your body is PERFECT and so are you!” Then I do this little butt shake and give myself a super sassy face. Sometimes I even forget that the blinds are open and the neighbors get a show!

Yeah, that’s right. I talk to myself outloud in the mirror and then I flirt...with myself. While naked. Blinds sometimes open.

The truth is, I work the shit out of positive affirmations, Reiki healing, and meditation. Why? Because these are the things that got me through/are getting me through eating disorder(s), organ failure, therapy, hospital visits, and depression, and these are the things that keep me present and loving my life no matter what arises. I am love and I will stop at nothing to spread the good word.

There was a long time ( not that long, just like, 20 years or so) in which I would do this “stomach check” as my meanie alter ego, Cruella. If my stomach didn’t feel small enough, or my face looked puffy, I would punish myself throughout the day in various ways. I would negative-self talk myself into a tunnel of thought patterning, until all that was cycling through my brain was criticism after criticism after criticism. This began upon awaking and did not end until i’d fallen asleep with (fingers crossed) an empty stomach and a smaller waist. In fact, my life was so heavily based upon this desire to be small, that I believe I subconsciously changed professions simply to be “thin” and “FIT.” Ca-ray-zee. Every second was about getting that unobtainable “hot” body, being desirable, being enough. And for what? My happiness DOES NOT depend on the size of my body (and psssht, neither should yours ). Oh, there’s more! I would also compare my body to all the bodies around me. If someone was smaller than me, I wouldn’t understand why I couldn’t look the same. Why me! Why do I have this body!? How is SHE eating that?! OMG!!!Why can’t I be skinny like everyone else!?...said Cruella McBword. Wah wah wah. NONSENSE.

My point?

You need to fight for yourself. You need to fight for your right to exist in peace. You. The real you, NOT your inner bully, YOU need to stand up to every single fucking negative comment that arises in your brain. Not just the body related ones, all of them! They are NOT REAL. These thoughts are lies we have created during our lifetimes ( or eh-hem, during childhood experiences that were not in our control) to keep us from reaching our incredible potential to experience true joy, presence, and connection to ourselves.

Let’s call these fear thoughts because that is all they do- keep you in fear and out of love. There is a magical world inside of you and you might not even realize it. You are so worthy of love, it is almost ridiculous. There is absolutely not one soul on this earth, in this galaxy, that is like you. You, the real you, has special powers and unique talents, and beauty that emanates if you allow it to. Say yes. You, the real you, is not even your body’s form, it is your presence with what is real and your ability to just show up to your life with compassion and love. I spent almost my entire life hating myself. What. A. Waste. Of. Time.

Enough is enough. It’s time for us to create a self love movement.

Let me tell you about what happens when you decide that those negative, self-defeating thoughts toward yourself (and others!) are just you own horrible version of your inner mean girl. When you label those thoughts, when you discover they aren’t your true source, you begin to create space in your brain for BETTER, SMARTER, MORE INTERESTING thoughts. You have heard of the old saying, “when you close one door, another opens,” well, that is not limited to breakups, actual doors, and jobs. We have a choice in how we perceive our lives, inside and outside of our brains and bodies. Choose to be compassionate to yourself and just wait and see how your world shifts. Once I shut that B word right the hell up (see how aggressive I have to be?!) I became more productive, more creative, and wayyyy more joyful. Though I will always have that old thought patterning trying to pull me back to nonsense, I will never give in to the lies because I am committed to living a freaking joyous life. That is my birthright.

I mean, if you don’t allow yourself to be joyful in your own existence, who will? I am calling for all of us to rise up, say NO MORE to our inner Cruella's and create a movement of celebrating ourselves and eachother in every way. Tell yourself you’re awesome. Tell other people (especially the ones that wake up your inner critic) that they are awesome! Step up and get on board this love train, full throttle into the magic of self-empowerment, so we can be a happier, more connected society. It is about time.

This is a reminder to myself that the voice in my head, telling me that i’m looking a little “big,” or that my clothes don’t look right on my body, or that I need to “fix” any part of my body is not me, but actually a made up, total B word that I need to name and claim as such. Let’s call her, Cruella McBwordAwordStupidDooDooFaceMagee.